A Poem of Peanut Butter

Downstairs in the kitchen there arose such a clatter,
so I sprang to my feet to see what was the matter,
Away to the kitchen I flew in a flash,
ran down the steps and tripped over the trash.


When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature Ava, as she grinned from ear to ear.
And a spoon in her hand and a Skippy Jar in the other,
Gave visions of a childhood of her Aunt and her Mother.